And Death Shall have no Dominion
by fields of lavender
Summary: There are tons of SND stories ranging from ignoring Season 3 altogether to Catherine magically coming back from the dead. But, there is an antidote to opiate overdose and I had always thought that if Vincent had just taken her to a doctor...Well, in this story he does. I borrow heavily from the episodes in Season 3 and so give credit where credit is due. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

The rotors of the helicopter beat the air and the wind produced tossed Vincent's golden mane. "Catherine!" he roared, thinking the helicopter was taking her away and he was too late, again.

"Vincent."

Her soft voice cut through all his grief and all the noise straight to his addled heart. He spun around and caught her as she fell into his arms.

"Catherine," he breathed. Her slight weight felt exquisite in his arms. He looked at her and took in her sweaty hair pushed back from her forehead, the tear stains on her cheeks, her body's quivering and the bloodstains on her gown.

"Vincent," she whispered again, crying quietly. "We loved. There is a child."

Vincent looked down at her, stunned. "Our child?" he asked as she nodded.

"He's beautiful."

Her body sagged a bit more in his arms and her eyes rolled back a bit. She squinted her eyes closed tightly and then opened them determinedly. She looked up into his eyes and spoke haltingly. "'Though lovers be lost...'"

"'Love shall not,'" he said firmly back. Her eyes rolled back again and closed. Her head fell backwards over his arm. "'And death shall have no dominion,'" he whispered.

He pulled her limp body up to his chest and held her tightly. He buried her face in her neck. A sob tore through his throat and he roared again, "Catherine!"

He held her for several minutes, crying into her hair. Then, he came somewhat back to himself and looked around. The helicopter was gone and the night was quiet. He knew he couldn't stay on the rooftop. He couldn't leave her there.

He kept one arm on her back as he reached with the other to pull up his hood. He pulled the side flaps of his cloak around them both. He gathered her body up in his arms and went to the door and carried her down the stairs to the street.

He left the hateful building and went into the night, into the darkened city. He carried her through the unfeeling streets. He encountered few people as he walked, cradling his precious burden, numb. How he managed to get her to her balcony, he did not know. But, at last, he entered her bedroom through the French doors and laid her carefully on her bed.

He smoothed her hair back and sat back on his heels, just looking at her. Even still and lifeless, he was awed by her beauty. But, he remembered, her beauty wasn't merely physical. She was so kind and generous and strong. Her love had opened his world beyond the stony tunnels and chambers beneath the earth. Her love was a strong ray of sunshine warming his face in the darkness. Without her, how could he go on?

He touched her face, smoothed her hair again and ran his hands down her arms. A glimmer of sunlight caught his eye and he turned to the windows and saw the sun beginning to rise. He couldn't stay past dawn, but how could he leave her?

He bent forward and ran his clawed finger over her lips. "As long as I live, you shall live, in me." Feeling a bravery he had never felt while she lived, he leaned closer and pressed his unique mouth to hers and kissed her softly. "Always," he whispered into her mouth and kissed her again.

When he pulled away, he thought he felt a puff of air come from her lips.

"Catherine?" He bent his cheek to her mouth and waited, holding his breath. After interminable seconds, another puff disrupted the whiskers on his cheek.

"Catherine!" He pressed his fingers to the pulse point on her neck and felt her heartbeat, faint, quiet, but steady. He gasped and began to cry in earnest. She was alive! She was barely clinging to live, but she was still alive. He had nearly left her for dead in her cold apartment. But what to do? He couldn't take her Below to Father. The sun was nearly above the buildings across the park and he would be seen. Frantically, he threw the blankets up over her body and added his cloak for good measure.

"Hold on, Catherine. Hold on a little longer." He jumped up and paced the small space between her bed and the French doors. "She needs help, but I cannot get her to Father. An ambulance? But where will I hide when the paramedics arrive?" He clenched his fists. What to do? "Peter!" his mind cried out. Dr. Peter Alcott, the best doctor he knew next to Father and he could bridge the worlds Above and Below.

Vincent stumbled out of Catherine's bedroom and went to her desk. A small Rolodex sat on it near the phone. His great paws fumbled with it, turning to the "A's," to Peter's phone number. Using the claw on his forefinger, he dialed the number marked "home" on the card. He held the phone to his ear awkwardly as it rang and rang. Finally, the phone call was answered and Peter's sleep-roughened voice muttered, "Alcott."

"Peter," Vincent breathed.

"Who is this?"

"It is Vincent."

"Vincent, really?" Peter sounded instantly more awake.

"Peter. I found Catherine last night. I thought..." Vincent stifled a sob. "I thought she was dead."

"Vincent, where are you?"

"I brought her home and kissed her goodbye. She is still breathing."

"Vincent..."

"She's alive, Peter, but I do not know what to do. The sun-"

"Vincent, wrap her up, keep her warm. If her breathing fades, breathe for her. You remember." Vincent nodded. "Talk to her, Vincent. Let her know you haven't given up. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Her apartment?"

"Yes."

"Fifteen minutes, Vincent." Peter hung up the phone.

Vincent carefully replaced the receiver and walked back to Catherine. He climbed on to the other side of the bed and gathered her into his arms. "I'm here, Catherine, I'm here. I won't let you go again." He kept his cheek close to her mouth and nose and rechecked her pulse from time to time.

It had only been ten minutes by the time Peter arrived, but it felt much longer to Vincent. He heard the elevator doors and a key turning the lock. Instinct made him freeze and turn his head, looking for a place to hide, but he knew it could only be Peter and he knew he couldn't leave Catherine.

Peter rushed in the door and came quickly into Catherine's bedroom. He stopped short, looking at the baby he had brought into the world looking so death-like in Vincent's arms. "What happened?" he asked shortly, setting his doctor's bag down by the bed and reaching for Catherine's wrist.

"I'm not sure. I had felt nothing of her for months and then tonight, there was something."

"Your bond?" Peter asked looking at her arm and noting the needle marks in the crooks of her elbows and the fresher mark on her upper arm.

"Similar, but not the same. I found her on the roof of a building in downtown. Or, she found me. She told me that we had loved and that there was a child. Then, she collapsed in my arms. I brought her here. When I found I must leave, I noticed she was still breathing."

"Her pulse is faint and so is her breathing. It seems like she recently gave birth. I wonder if she has retained the placenta. But, that doesn't account for all of this." Peter rubbed his forehead. "Where is the baby, Vincent?"

"I do not know."

Peter pulled supplies from his bag and began to ready an intravenous line. He tied a tourniquet around Catherine's upper arm. "I wonder if whoever took her only kept her for the baby. Didn't you nearly rescue her a few months ago?"

"Yes, she was tapping on the pipes. Old Sam intercepted the message and I found her. There were too many for me. Perhaps I should have waited for help or contacted the police. They took her to another place and I couldn't find her again until tonight."

Peter placed the needle into her vein. Vincent handed him the tubing to connect to it. "Thank-you, Vincent. Perhaps her kidnappers inferred that you were connected to her, that you were the father of her child and decided they wanted it."

"Then after the child was born, they would have..."  
"Disposed of her. Yes. If it were me, I'd use morphine." Peter fumbled in his bag, looking for a bottle of medicine. "Aha." He pulled the bottle out and withdrew a dose from it with a syringe.

"What is that?" Vincent asked as Peter injected it into her IV line.

"Narcan. It is an antidote for opiates." Peter placed the empty syringe and medicine bottle on the bedside table and bent to recheck Catherine's pulse. "A bit stronger, but she needs more than I can do here. We need to get her to a hospital. She needs blood, antibiotics, maybe ventilation."

"Peter, call an ambulance. Save her. She is my life."

"We should try to keep this anonymous. If her kidnappers find she is still alive..."

"They will come looking for her."

"I'll call a private service rather than 911. I'll admit her to me, keep her in a private room. Maybe I can arrange for a Helper or even Mary to help care for her. Where can you go while the ambulance takes her?"

"I can hide in her kitchen or the balcony. I can wait until night and go back Below."

"All right. I'll call now. Stay close to her."

Vincent cuddled Catherine close again and kissed her forehead. She felt a bit warmer and her breath was stronger on his face, but it still seemed so faint. Her cheeks were pale. Vincent could hear Peter in the other room, speaking to the ambulance service.

"No, keep it quiet. I don't know who to trust with this yet, but she needs medical attention and quickly."

Peter returned to the bedroom. "They should be here in 10-15 minutes, depending on traffic. It is still early, but rush hour seems to never end in this part of town. How is she?"

"She is so pale and still."

"She is strong, Vincent, and she has a lot to live for – you and the baby."

"I haven't even really thought of the child. It is so much."

"You'll have time to absorb it. I don't want you to panic while you're stuck here. Do you want me to call with updates?"

"I'm not sure."

"I think I'll call a helper to get a message to Jacob."

"All right." Peter returned to the other room and picked up the phone. Vincent held Catherine close again and kissed her forehead and hair over and over.

"I love you, Catherine. I love you. I'll never let you go again. I know now. I know what you meant. I'll never be apart from you again." He kissed her head again and stroked her shoulder and arm and smoothed her hair. He trailed his fingers back to her neck and felt her pulse. It seemed stronger. The medicine Peter had injected her with seemed to help. Suddenly, her eyelids fluttered open. She sucked in a big breath of air as Vincent gasped. "Peter!"

Peter dropped the phone and ran to the bedroom and saw Catherine in Vincent's arms with her eyes open, looking up at him.

"Vincent," she whispered.

"You are going to be fine, Catherine." Vincent's tears began to fall again. "I love you. Peter is here. He's going to get you to a hospital. When you are well enough, I'll take you Below."

"Cathy, it is okay, honey. Everything is going to be okay." There was a loud knock at the door.

"I must go."

"Vincent," she whispered again. "He's beautiful."

"Of course, he is. You will be well and we will find him." Vincent slipped from the bed and took up his cloak. He kissed Catherine's forehead again and went to the kitchen. Catherine's eyes closed again and she seemed to be sleeping.

Peter followed Vincent to the other room and made sure he was well-concealed in the kitchen before he opened the door. Three paramedics entered the apartment rolling a stretcher. "Where is she, doctor?"

"In here," Peter answered. As they moved to the bedroom, Vincent opened the kitchen door a crack and watched them work on Catherine. Confident that she was in good hands, Vincent let the door close and sank to the floor and began to cry silently. She was found. She was alive. They would be well.


	2. Chapter 2

Vincent spent the day in Catherine's apartment. He found books, letters and mementos he had given her. He spent some time reading through them, remembering the giving of each. It was nice, being among her things. He had come to her balcony when she was missing, hoping against hope she would miraculously return, but she never did. He hadn't come inside. Now he knew that she could not come here again, that if she was found to be alive, her kidnappers would find her and kill her. Now he knew the extent of her love for him. They had a child and after he was found and his mother recovered, all three would disappear Below and live a peaceful life.

He found a box in the back of her closet, full of things she must have saved beginning in her childhood. He packed his books and things in there. He also placed photographs of her parents, some clothing and a few knick knacks she had around the apartment. He wanted her to have familiar things around her. He planned to begin sorting through his chamber to make room for her as soon as it became dark.

Peter had called and said that they had arrived in the hospital. Catherine was going to require surgery – she had retained the placenta – and a course of antibiotics, but he thought she would recover. When she was stable enough, he would find a way for her to come Below and Father could continue her care.

Once Vincent had heard from Peter and completed his packing, he still had a lot of time on his hands to brood. He sat on the floor in front of the French doors and watched the sun move across the sky. He wondered what had happened to the Bond he and Catherine had once shared and what had happened last night to allow him to find her at last.

"The child had been born," he thought. His mind went back to his last conversation with Catherine. He was still weak from that horrible sickness and was feeling sorry for himself because their Bond had been broken. Catherine had entered his chamber with a brightness in her eyes that he, in his selfishness, did not recognize. She must have known about the child and had come to tell him. But even then, she had soothed and comforted him. What had she said?

"'Maybe the gift will return to you in a different form; something you had never even dreamed of.'"

He certainly had never even dreamed of a child. Was what he had felt last night the child? He closed his eyes and quieted his mind. He was still reeling from the supposed death and resurrection of Catherine in his arms; the gleeful joy that ran through him, knowing she was alive and safe. He tried to put it all out of his head, to find and concentrate on the heartbeat he had heard in his chamber last night. He slowed his breathing and sat perfectly still, cross-legged on the floor of Catherine's bedroom, concentrating, remembering the feeling that had suffused him last night.

He felt it, once, twice, three times – like Catherine's heartbeat, but faster. He furrowed his brow, trying to determine where it was coming from, when he heard a key turn in the lock of the front door. In a trice, he was up and out the doors on to the balcony. He concealed himself as best he could in the corner, where he had had the presence of mind to place the box he intended to take to the tunnels. It was late afternoon and the sun was starting to set. Catherine's balcony faced east and there were already shadows to hide himself. He might just have to chance escape before it was fully dark, depending on who was entering.

A short, stout Mexican-American woman entered the door, jangling the keys. "Why do they want me to clean? No one is here, but every week, go clean Chandler apartment. Good money, no work, so I clean," she muttered to herself. Vincent watched stealthily from the shadows of the balcony, praying she would not go outside.

The woman ran a dust cloth over Catherine's bookshelves, desk and mantlepiece. She went next to the kitchen and wiped down the clean counters and checked the appliances. The refrigerator was empty, but it was still cold. Oh, she remembered the first time she had cleaned this place. "The stink of the kitchen!" she exclaimed out loud, crossing herself. "Madre de Dios!"

Vincent watched as the woman crossed the living room and entered Catherine's bedroom. He realized just a moment before she saw it what he had forgotten. The bed was rumpled from Catherine and from him lying on it. And on the side where he had laid her was a very large bloodstain.

"Madre de Dios!" the woman screamed and ran from the room. Vincent decided to risk leaving early as she went to the phone and dialed 911. He could hear her, speaking a frantic mixture of English and Spanish, trying to explain what had happened. In the end, the police came, and the hope of secrecy was dashed. There was finally a break in the Chandler case.

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Joe Maxwell got off the elevator on Catherine's floor and clipped an ID badge to the collar of his suit. His overcoat flopped back over it. He turned the corner to her apartment and was stopped by an officer.

"ID?"

Joe flipped his coat collar back, revealing the badge. "Joe Maxwell, DA's office."

"Go ahead, sir."

Joe bent under the police tape and entered the apartment. There were police officers everywhere. Some were dusting for fingerprints, others were taking photographs. There were men taking photographs and someone was vacuuming the carpet. Joe walked over to the doorway of Catherine's bedroom and stopped short at sight of the large bloodstain on the coverlet.

"Oh, Cathy," he whispered.

"Hey, Joe?"

"Yeah?" Joe turned to the officer who had called his name. It was Greg Hughes. Joe and Cathy had worked with him, both professionally and personally for the last two years. Joe was sure glad he had caught this case.

"Hey, Joe. Jesus, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Have you been involved with this from the beginning?"

"Not officially. I'm here as a friend."

"Good. I could use your opinion. It looks like the place had been gone through."

"What do you mean?"

"Like things are missing. Look over here." Greg led Joe to a curio cabinet that stood in the living room. A collection of glass eggs were displayed on one of the shelves. One was obviously missing.

"Huh," Joe said. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Books off the shelves. Clothes from the closet. It looks like there was a box on the floor of the closet that has been removed. Do you know of anyone who has been in here?"

"I know the executor of her estate hired a cleaning lady. Otherwise, no one I know of. You talk to her?"

"Yeah, she called it in."

"You're getting fingerprints?"

"From all over. We're testing everything – doorknobs, chairs, tables, the phone."

"Good. Let me know what you find out."

"Sure thing."

"Thanks." Joe moved back to the bedroom to where the CSI guys were taking samples of the bloodstain. "What do you think?"

"Its blood."

"Thanks." Joe rolled his eyes. "Lab guys. Can't live with 'em..." he thought.

"Won't know anything 'til I get this back to the lab."

"Just the bed? Anything else?"

"Yeah. Found a used syringe and a bottle on the bedside table. Already bagged them. We'll let you know."

"What was the bottle?" Joe asked.

"Label said, 'Narcan,' but we'll test it for sure."

"You sending everything to Hughes?"

"He's the detective who caught the case right?"

"Okay, okay. I just don't want anything to slip through the cracks. This is the first break this case has had in six months. She's a friend."

The CSI looked up at Joe critically. "Yeah, right. Look, all due respect, I do every job the same, whether it is some homeless drug addict or the Queen of England, right?"

"Good, good. I'll get out of your way." Joe took one last look at the bed and the bloodstain and turned away. "Come on, Radcliffe. Tell me where you are. Let me bring you home."

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Father walked stiffly down the hallway to Vincent's chamber.

"Vincent?" he called.

Vincent was sitting at his table, staring blankly ahead, thinking. He didn't turn at Father's voice. "I found Catherine last night."

"I know. I received a note from Peter. He said she was doing as well as could be expected. She is still unconscious."

"I thought she had died."

"I can imagine. Peter said her pulse was very faint when he arrived. Morphine over-doses can be tricky. In addition to the blood loss..."

"I nearly left her there, alone," Vincent interrupted.

"Vincent, don't."

"Don't what, Father?" Vincent slammed his fist on the table and jumped up. "I've searched for her for months. Months! And after I find her, I leave her for dead?"

"But you didn't. I've seen people in a morphine stupor. They appear lifeless."

"But I, of all people, should have known!"

"You did, Vincent, when it counted." Father stumbled over to where Vincent stood and took his arm. "You found her. If you hadn't, she'd be dead and cold alone, in that terrible place. You saved her."

Vincent covered his face with his hands. "I was trapped in her apartment, all day. I was nearly caught. A cleaning woman came in and found the bloodstain. I left while it was still daylight when she called the police. I don't think I was seen."

Vincent expected a lecture, but was surprised by Father's words. "You did the right thing, leaving when you did. I'm sure the police went over that apartment with a fine-tooth comb. You couldn't have stayed. They would have found you for sure."

"I know. I..."

"You must be exhausted. You should sleep. I just came to tell you the latest on Catherine and to make sure you slept. Peter admitted her as 'Jane Doe.' Hopefully, her admission won't be tied to the investigation at her apartment. As soon as she is stable, we will bring her Below. Peter and I have been mulling over possibilities." Father took his son's arm and gently guided him to the bed. Vincent sat down heavily. "I know you haven't slept well in months."

"I am tired."

"Catherine will have a long recovery and will need you to be strong."

"Yes."

"Lie down, Vincent. All will be well."

"All right, Father. All right."

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Father made his way painstakingly to the entrance nearest the hospital where Catherine was lying. Peter walked slowly to meet him.

"How is she?" Father asked.

"Ah, Jacob." Peter rubbed his hands over his face and scratched his head. "I think she's through the worst of it. She made it through the surgery, but I had to give her 6 units of blood and she's septic."

"Did you have to intubate?"

"Not yet, but she hasn't regained consciousness."

"Vincent said she spoke to him for a moment."

"Yes, but since then, nothing."

"Who is watching her?"

"Remember Chelsea?"

"Ah, yes."

Chelsea had come to the tunnels as a young girl, abandoned on the streets 10 years ago. Vincent had actually found her and brought her Below. She returned Above when she turned eighteen and entered a nursing trade school. She was now working for the hospital Peter had taken Catherine.

"She has agreed to stay with her, in her room, for the night. She has no other patients. She is to page me with anything."

"You should rest too."

"I know. You know, I had given up. I thought Vincent was crazy to keep searching."

"Me too." The two men stood silently for a few moments.

Father reached out and took Peter's arm. "When she's stable, we will be ready for her. It won't be too far on a stretcher. We'll have replacements set up every so often. The hard part will be getting her here."

"I might use an ambulance, the pretense of transferring her to another facility."

"Does anyone know who she is?"

"Even Chelsea doesn't know her real name. She's just Jane. But I worry. She isn't entirely unknown and if anyone recognizes her..."

"Yes, I know. Well, we are due for some good luck. We just need to hope for the best."

"Right now, that's all we have."

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Catherine lay in a darkened hospital room down the end of a long hallway. Chelsea dozed in the chair by her bed. The monitors gleamed green in the half-light and a steady beeping indicated her heartbeat. The beeping increased slightly in tempo and Catherine's eyes fluttered open. "Vincent?"


	3. Chapter 3

Joe sat at the counter of the diner, stirring his coffee absent-mindedly. Greg Hughes approached him, tossed a file folder on the counter and sat down.

"Coffee?" he said to the server, who poured him a cup. Hughes took up a sugar packet and dumped the contents into his cup and stirred vigorously.

"Morning?" Joe said, raising an eyebrow.

"Joe, you have no idea what kind of mess we've got."

"Okay. Start at the top. Blood?"

"Mostly Cathy's. ME estimates a unit, maybe more."

"What do you mean 'mostly Cathy's?'" Joe asked.

"There were traces of foreign DNA."

"Foreign?"

"Not Cathy's."

"Then whose?"

"Still working on that."

Joe took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay. Fingerprints."

"Tons. Cathy's, of course. The cleaning lady. We took a set off her before we let her go. Some of you." Hughes took a drink of coffee. "We also found some from this doctor, Peter Alcott."

"I know that name."

"You should. Did some digging. He's the executor of Cathy's estate. Her next of kin."

"Well, that makes sense. He probably was checking on the place."

"Yeah. It makes sense on the doorknobs and the phone. But, we also found his on that bottle of Narcan and the syringe."

"What?"

"And that isn't even the weirdest thing." Hughes took another drink of coffee.

"There's another set – from the door to the balcony, on the bed, closet doors, kitchen. Kind of all over."

"Whose are they?" Joe asked.

"Wrong question. Not whose. What's."

"What's?"

"Yeah, lab doesn't think they're human. Definitely don't match anyone in the system."

"Greg. Come on."

"I'm telling you what I know, Joe. Almost as soon as I know it." He indicated the file folder on the counter. "There's you 'unofficial' copy of the results."

"There's got to be more."

"I'm doing my best. But, Joe. I know my limitations."

"Limitations? This is Cathy Chandler!"

"Look, Joe. I know that and I'd do anything for her. But I've got to do it within my scope. I got to take whatever cases get tossed my way. We got lucky that I was up when this call came in." Greg paused and took a toothpick out of the container on the counter by his right hand. "You ever hear of the 210?"

"Special crimes? Yeah, why?"  
"There's this woman, on it. Diana Bennett? You know her?"

Joe shook his head.

"Do you remember the Bessara case last month?"

"Yeah."  
"She was the one who found Hernandez."

"I thought that was the Bureau."

Hughes chewed on the toothpick. "Nope. Bennett. She doesn't like the publicity." He tossed the toothpick on the counter. "Look, Joe. This isn't an ordinary case. It is a missing person, but now there's all this blood. It isn't a homicide, but it could be. There's a lot going on. You need to look at other alternatives. And Bennett. She gets to pick and choose."

"Why?"

"Cause she's good." Greg stood up and drained his coffee cup. "You get a hold of Bennett at the 210. I'll be in touch."

"Thanks, Greg." Joe picked up the folder and paid for his coffee. He left the diner. He had some favors to call in.

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Peter went to the hospital first thing in the morning. Chelsea had reported a quiet night for her patient. She had stirred around 1:00 in the morning, but drifted back off. Her vitals stayed steady and her fever was down. Peter decided to try to wake her up. He had Chelsea stay by the door and entered the room.

Catherine was lying on the bed, tucked under the blankets with monitor wires coming out from under them, attaching her to machines overhead. Her left arm was connected to an IV. Her hair had been brushed, but she still looked pale and disordered. Peter decided she didn't look like herself without her spark.

He crossed over to the bed and pulled out his stethoscope. He listened to her heart and her lungs and then pressed his hands over the lower abdomen. Her belly was still swollen, but firm. Since she had retained the placenta after the delivery of the child, her uterus couldn't contract and she was bleeding out, in addition to the deadly dose of morphine. She was lucky.

Satisfied with her physical condition, Peter sat in the chair by the bed and pushed her hair back.

"Cathy? Cathy, honey? It is time to wake up." He moved his hand to her shoulder and shook her a little. "Cathy? I need you to open your eyes." He spoke in a firm, clear voice. He shook her again. "Cathy!"

At this last prodding, Catherine frowned and turned her head away from Peter. He reached for her chin and turned her back. "Cathy? I need you to open your eyes now. Just open up and look at me. That's all I need."

Catherine's frown deepened through all of this and then she sighed. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment and then closed again.

"Good, girl. Do it again. Look at me, young lady."

Catherine frowned again and opened her eyes. She looked up at Peter's face for a few brief seconds and then closed them again. "Peter?" she whispered.

"Yes, honey. It's me. How are you feeling?"

"Vincent?" she whispered again.

"Oh, I know you want to see him. I just need you go get a little stronger."

She sighed. "Vincent."

"Soon, sweetie, soon. I'll tell him you asked for him, okay?"

Her eyelids flickered open and then shut. "Kay."

"Okay, Cathy. You get your rest now. I'll check on you in a little while." Peter rose from the chair and prepared to leave the room and give his orders for the day to the nurse waiting outside the door. A soft voice called him back to her side.

"Peter, thanks."

"You're welcome, honey. I'm glad you're back."

Peter turned from the bedside as Catherine drifted back to sleep. He left Chelsea in the room and then went down the hall to the nurse's station. He was writing in Catherine's chart, still marked, "Jane Doe" when two police officers came by.

"Morning," one flashed his badge to the charge nurse. "I'm officer Downey and this officer Sparks. We heard you had a 'Jane Doe' admitted yesterday?"

Peter turned sideways so that his face could not be seen by the officers. He continued to write furiously, hoping to get his orders entered without having to answer too many questions.

Margie, the charge nurse had been around awhile and she knew Dr. Alcott from when he was a resident. She never looked over at him. She merely raised her gaze above her reading glasses and pulled a pen out of her stiff beehive hair-do. "None of my patients are to be disturbed at this time. What is this all about?" She looked back down and marked off an item on the list in front of her.

"We are just checking something out. A bunch of blood was found on a bed in an apartment by the park. We are looking at 'Jane Doe's' to see if she could be who the blood belongs to."

"None of my patients can be disturbed at this time. If anyone has information that may help you, I'll be sure to call. May I have your card?"  
"Nurse, do you have any 'Jane Doe's' or not?" Sparks was young, he didn't like being sent on a wild goose chase and he knew he wasn't getting a straight answer out of Margie.

"I will thank you to lower your voice. This is a hospital. Now, unless you are an admitting physician to this hospital or have a warrant," she lowered her gaze at the two officers. "You will not be laying a hand on any of my charts or disturbing any of my patients."

Downey put his hand on Sparks' arm. "Easy, Sparks. We'll go check the next place and come back. Thanks, ma'am." The two policemen turned and walked down the hallway towards the elevators. Downey appeared to be lecturing Sparks under his breath.

"Wow, Margie. Remind me never to get on your bad side," Peter said, handing her the chart with his orders. She tucked her pen back into her beehive and pushed up her glasses a little.

"You never will, Dr. Alcott. But you might want to re-admit your patient," she said, not looking at him, but scanning the chart for new orders. She began to enter them into the computer on her desk.

"Thanks, Margie," Peter said. "I'm keeping Chelsea on private duty for the rest of today and will probably be bringing in someone else for tonight. Can you spell her for a little while so she can get something to eat?"

"Of course, doctor. I'll attend to it personally."

"You are a peach, Margie. Thanks again," Peter said over his shoulder, heading towards admitting.

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Father walked into Vincent's chamber that morning and found his son still in bed, sleeping. He sighed and looked at him. His son. He looked so peaceful and content while asleep. For so long, Vincent had been so worried, so frightened, so angry with himself. No one Below was finding any peace. And, now just as Vincent had finally fallen into a much-needed slumber, Father had to awaken him. "Well, who said life was fair," he muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, "Vincent?"

Vincent awoke in an instant and sat up. He looked around quickly and saw Father. "What is it?"

"I received a note from Peter this morning. He gives an update on Catherine's condition. I thought you'd like to know as soon as possible."

"Catherine?"

"Yes."

"Then, it wasn't a dream. It was real?"

"Yes."

Vincent blinked quickly a few times, then swung his legs out of the bed. "Tell me."

Father unfolded the note and as he didn't have his glasses, held it out at arm's length to read it aloud.

"'_Jacob, Catherine had a good, peaceful night. Her fever is lower and her uterus is contracting down quite nicely. She woke up briefly this morning. She recognized me and asked after Vincent. Some police officers came by, asking after any 'Jane Doe's' admitted yesterday. Margie (remember her from residency?) held them off and I've readmitted Catherine under the name 'Caroline Wells.' If I can get her to wake up enough to eat something and if her H&H stays stable, I may be able to transfer her tonight or tomorrow morning. Please prepare as we discussed. I'll send more news when I have it. Peter._"

"What does this mean? What is an H&H? What about her uterus?"

"Vincent, after a woman gives birth and expels the placenta, the uterus contracts in on itself, sealing off all the blood vessels. If that does not happen appropriately, the torn blood vessels continue to bleed. There are several reasons why this can happen, but with Catherine, because she slipped into a coma before she could deliver the afterbirth, her uterus couldn't contract down. Peter took her to surgery and removed the placenta. He had to give her six units of blood. He is monitoring her Hemoglobin and Hematocrit to see if she needs more."

"I see."

"She is also on antibiotics, to fight infection. A retained placenta can be a nasty thing."

"Does it seem that there are any effects from the morphine?"

"She is quite sleepy, but she recognized Peter and remembered you. With time, I'm sure she will be fine."

"And the police?"

"It shouldn't surprise you that they are looking for the source of all that blood. Peter had admitted her as a 'Jane Doe.' He had to change her name."

"Good. Then, it seems that all is going as well as it could."

"Yes. Come, get dressed. We can talk more at breakfast." Father patted Vincent's shoulder and left his chamber. Vincent rose from the bed and began to prepare for the day. Then, he felt it again, that buzzing, beating heart he had heard the night he had found Catherine. It seemed to quicken, intensify and then it went quiet and still. What did it mean? He had much to discuss with Father and he hurried with his dressing.


	4. Chapter 4

Joe stood in the entry way of the building. There were a row of mailboxes, the last in the row hung open on rusty hinges. Next to the mailboxes, near the freight elevator, was an intercom box. Joe pushed the button on the top. He tapped his foot and then pushed the button again.

"Hello?" A woman's voice echoed through the speaker.

"It's Joe Maxwell. We talked this morning?"

No answer. Joe looks around and rubs his forehead. "Hello? Diana? Diana Bennett?"

"I told you I can't do it."

"Look, I have no place else to go. Please? Hello?" He pushes the button again.

"Fifth floor," the voice is resigned.

A loud buzzing sound fills the small entryway as Joe is buzzed in. He climbs on to the freight elevator and rises to the fifth floor. The elevator stops, revealing an angry-looking red-haired woman through the metal gates. She is wearing sweatpants and socks. Her long hair is pulled back in a ponytail. Her arms are crossed over her chest. She is definitely angry.

"Where's you get my address?"

"From your watch commander."

"Call in a favor?"

"Yeah. A big one."

"You realize this is completely unfair of you."

"I'm just asking you to take a look at something."

"You are asking me to set aside one case for another. I can't do that."

"Not even for one day? An hour?"

Diana opens the gate on her side. "Let me show you something."

Joe opens the gate on his side and follows her across the room to an over-flowing desk. A wall-sized bulletin board is covered with pictures, newspaper clippings and maps.

"This is where I've been for the last four months. That is Sally Rogers." She gestures to a little girl in the center of the bulletin board. "Ten years old. Grabbed waiting for her mom outside of school." Diana turned and looked at Joe intently. "Every three weeks the guy sends something. A lock of hair. A piece of clothing. A shoe. Yesterday, a package arrived with a small finger inside." Joe looks at the floor. "Lab says she's still alive. What can _I_ do for _you_, Joe Maxwell?"

Joe looks up at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you."

Diana looks down, awkward. "Sometimes I push too hard."

"No, I was wrong to come here. I'm sorry." He walks back to the elevator and gets on. He closes the safety gate on her side and begins to close the other on his. Diana approaches him.

"So, this woman? Was she important to you?"

Joe leans up against the side of the elevator door. "We worked together, but it was more than that."

"Romantic?"

"No. Just friends. But, I feel like it's my fault."  
"So when she disappeared, you asked to lead the investigation." Joe nods. "Let me guess. The trail went cold, fast. And you blamed yourself. And then you worked harder and harder until all your other work suffered."

"I was suspended."

"And then you began to dream about her and your mind took these illogical leaps. And you followed up absurd leads and intuitions, and pretty soon you couldn't think of anything else." Joe looks at her, stunned. "That's why I only work one case at a time."

"Are they all like that for you?"

"Yep." Diana turns and goes back to her desk.

"Let me ask you something." Joe pushes the gate back open and goes to Diana at her desk. "What do you make of this? A woman is violently kidnapped. Six months later, the only sign of her is a huge bloodstain on her own bed. No one saw her come in or out of that building. Up seventeen flights and down seventeen flights. No witnesses."

"I don't know."

"Yeah, nobody does. And in three weeks, no one is going to care. That is why I came to you." Joe goes back to the elevator and jerks the gates closed. Before he pushes the button to descend to the ground floor he nods towards her bulletin board. "I hope you find that girl." The elevator slowly begins to descend and Diana watches until he is out of sight.

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

With Chelsea on duty, Catherine had a quiet night up to now. She had awoken a couple more times that day. She managed to stay awake long enough to sip six spoonfuls of beef broth, but she didn't speak again. Vincent was going insane, Below. He ran to the entrance closest to the hospital and paced there intermittently until Peter took pity on him. He arranged for Vincent to enter Catherine's room just after 2:00 in the morning.

Now, Vincent stood in the shadows near the window of Catherine's hospital room. He counted her heartbeats, beeping out into the night from the monitor above her bed. He counted her breaths. He relished being in the same room with her after so long.

Catherine turned her head to the shadow in the room and opened her eyes. "Vincent?" she whispered.

"Catherine."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "You're a dream again, aren't you?"

"A dream?"

"Yes." She fluttered her eyes open again. "You're still here."

"Yes."

"Oh, Vincent." She closed her eyes again and tried to reach for him. "I'm so sorry."

He stepped closer and took her hand. "For what?"

At his touch, she opened her eyes again. "You almost feel real," she murmured. "For not telling you. For getting in trouble again. I was trying. Honest."

"I know." Vincent wasn't sure if she was dreaming or awake and decided to go along with whatever she was saying.

"I wanted to tell you." She closed her eyes and squeezed his hand. His heart rate increased at the feeling.

"I know. Shhh. Just rest now." He brushed her hair off her forehead.

"I wanted to tell you about the baby. I wanted to tell you and then just stay with you forever."

"I know. I know."

"But that stupid book!" She opened her eyes suddenly.

"The book?"

"Yeah." She closed them again. "Joe gave me that book and then I told John. Then, they took me."

"John Moreno? The DA?"

"Yes." She sighed. "Oh, Vincent. This feels so real. Stay with me. Everything is better when you stay with me."

"I'll stay as long as I can. When you're better, we'll never be apart."

"No. She'll be coming in soon. He'll want to do more tests."

"No, Catherine. No more. You're safe. Sleep now."

Catherine opened her eyes and this time, her gaze seemed clearer to him. "Vincent?"

"Yes. I'm here. You're safe. You're safe now. Sleep, my love." Catherine squeezed his hand again, and tears begin to fall from Vincent's eyes. He carefully slid into the bed next to her and held her head against his breast. "Sleep. All will be well."

Catherine nestled up against him and wrapped her arm around his waist and went to sleep. Vincent held her firmly and kissed her hair. He could hardly believe that nearly twenty-four hours ago he thought she had died in his arms. He kissed her head again and thanked whatever God was watching them again and again.

His tears nearly done and Catherine sleeping peacefully at his side, he sees the door open. He freezes on the bed, holding Catherine closer, knowing there is nowhere to run. He doesn't know what to do, but heaves a sigh of relief when he sees that it is only Chelsea.

"Hi, Vincent."

"Chelsea, thank-you so much for what you've done for her."

"It's Catherine, isn't it? I'd do anything. I know how much she means to you. I owe you and Father and everyone a lot."

"This more than repays whatever debt you think you have. We do not think you owe us a thing."

"Thank-you, Vincent." She turns to look out the door. "You'd better go. She is due for meds in about ten minutes."

"Yes. I must go." Vincent slid out of Catherine's arms and approached Chelsea. He gave her a book. "If she awakens or seems uneasy, read some of this to her. It helped the last time she was ill." He gave her a worn copy of Great Expectations. He walked back to Catherine's bed and kissed her brow tenderly.

"All right." She took the book and places it near her chair. "I'll have Dr. Peter send another message to Father for you. I think she's doing well. He may send her Below tomorrow." They walked to the window together. "You need your rest too. If she does go Below, you will have your hands full tending to her."

"I'll try, Chelsea. If she awakes," he paused at a loss for words.

"I'll tell her."

"Good-night." He slipped out the window and into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Joe received a note under his apartment door. He stared at it. It read, "University of New York Crime Lab. 10:00. DB." Joe was confused. Diana Bennett had pushed him out her door barely eighteen hours ago. Now, it seemed like she was on Catherine's case and wanted to give him an update. If he still had an office, he'd just take a phone call. Actually, if he still had an office, Cathy would be taking the phone call and giving him a report. He sighed and pulled on the rumpled suit he had worn yesterday. He found a cleaner shirt on the floor and knotted a tie loosely around his neck. He gathered up the papers from Hughes he had strewn over the coffee table and turned and looked at the apartment. Diana's words from yesterday came back to him. "'And then you began to dream about her and your mind took these illogical leaps. And you followed up absurd leads and intuitions, and pretty soon you couldn't think of anything else.'"

"I really ought to do laundry," he said as he locked the door and headed downtown.

Fortunately, Joe was suspended, not fired, and his credentials still worked. He entered a long hallway in the Crime Lab building and began to walk down it. Diana Bennett came out of a door about half-way down and he joined her. They walked in silence a few more steps and then entered an empty office. It looked like Diana was using it. Her purse and coat were sitting on an empty chair next to a dusty desk.

"Joe, I need to ask you a question and before I do, I need you to clear your mind and just give me the first answer that pops into your head."

Diana Bennett didn't beat around the bush. "What the hell is going on? What happened to Sally Rogers?"

"We lost her. Perp killed himself after."

"Jesus, I'm sorry."

"Look, there's some new information on Catherine and I need to ask you about it, but you've got to clear your mind for me."

"What? Why?"

"When you think of Cathy Chandler, I want to know who makes you jealous?"

"Seriously, Bennett?"

"Yeah. You were in love with her."

Joe stared at her, stunned. "No, I-" Diana looked at him pointedly. "Okay, maybe. But, like how you feel about your older brother's girlfriend. Nothing was ever gonna come of it."

"Okay, Joe. Okay. But who made you jealous?"

Instantly, Joe's face hardened. "Elliot Burch."

"Elliot Burch?" Joe nods. "What about a guy named, Vincent?"

"No, I never heard of him until we started looking around her apartment. We found some books and letters signed by him."

"Not this time."

"What?"

"Current police report doesn't say anything about a Vincent. The stuff from you, from before the bloodstain, does."

"What does this have to do with anything anyway?"

Diana sighed and sat down on the only available chair. She pulled her feet up underneath her and hugged her knees. "The lab guys think they know whose blood was mixed in with Cathy's."

"Who?"

"They think Cathy was pregnant. DNA from the second sample shares some traits with Cathy, but it isn't identical. Looks like her baby."

"A baby? Cathy was pregnant?"

"You didn't know?"

"No. She was real weird about personal stuff like that."

"She didn't say anything the last time you talked to her?"

"No, she said a friend of hers was going through a tough time. She said it was someone she loved and that she was worried about him. She thought she might need some more time off. She took a couple of weeks, worked at night some and then I met with Pat Hanlon and he gave me that book. Then, his car exploded and I ended up in the hospital. I gave Cathy the book and asked her to look into it. That was the last time I saw her."

"So, what did Burch want with her?"

"He wanted to marry her." Joe smiled slightly, remembering when Burch tried to wine and dine Cathy with lobster and champagne in the middle of the busy DA office. "She turned him down."

"Did he give it up easy?" Joe shrugged. "When was the last time she saw Burch?"

"I don't know? A year? But, like I said, she played that stuff close to the vest."

"Okay, Joe. Thanks." Diana gathered up her coat and purse and left Joe standing in the empty office, alone.

"Wait!" He ran after her. "What can I do? I got to do something. I'm going nuts."

"Okay. Why don't you see if you can track down that doctor, Peter Alcott? His prints were in the house too, but also on that syringe and medicine bottle. Why don't you start 'unofficially' and see what you can find out. You know, 'I'm a friend of Cathy's, have you heard anything, why the hell did you shoot up someone with Narcan?'"

"All right. Thanks, Diana."

"Call me later. I know you got my number." She grinned wryly.

"Yeah. Okay." Joe smiled back. For the first time in six months, Joe felt something that seemed strangely like hope.

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Earlier that day, after too little sleep, Peter rounded on Catherine. Chelsea told him that she had spoken to Vincent when he had visited that night, but seemed to think that she was still with her kidnappers. She seemed agitated, but Vincent had calmed her and she had gone back to sleep. She was sleeping still. Her latest H/H was stable and she remained afebrile. Peter looked her over briefly and told Chelsea that he wanted her to try to get Catherine to eat something. He was thinking of sending her Below either later that day or tomorrow morning.

He was out at the nurse's desk, absent-mindedly writing his note and orders when two police officers approached. "Damn," Peter thought to himself. "Margie is off duty today." He turned away and hurried with his work.

"Good morning," the older officer spoke to the nurse at the desk. "I'm officer Downey and this is officer Sparks. We were here yesterday and had a hard time getting the information we needed. We are looking for any 'Jane Doe's' admitted in the last forty-eight hours with any conditions that could have led to massive blood loss."

Carol, the charge nurse that day, glanced down at the roster of patients in front of her. "We are a gynecological floor. We don't get too many patients like that. Most of the trauma patients are down on the third floor. And, we don't have any 'Jane Doe's' on the unit."

"Okay, thanks."

The two officers walked back down the hall. "Geez, why couldn't the old broad yesterday just tell us that?" Sparks muttered.

Peter watched them go over his shoulder. Then, he handed the chart to Carol. She flipped through it and flagged his orders.

"Anything I need to know about, Dr Alcott?"

"Not really. Just trying to get her to eat a little. Her family wants her transferred as soon as possible."

"I've noticed she hasn't had many visitors."

"No. I'm an old friend of the family. She got ill while visiting and I've been taking care of her. Her family hired the private duty nurse. Of course, they want her home as soon as she can."

"Sure, doctor. We'll try to get her sitting up and eating some soup this morning. If it goes well, I'll page you and start the transfer process."

"Thanks, Carol. Talk with you soon." Peter hurried down the hall to the elevators. He had a full schedule in the office today, but didn't have anymore patients in the hospital. He'd look at the schedule when he got in and see if he could arrange an early day. He had to send a note Below to Jacob too. He hoped Catherine was well enough to transfer today. Besides worrying that someone would recognize her, she was adding to his caseload and he wasn't sleeping well. He was afraid he would make a stupid mistake and jeopardize everything.

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Despite his late night, Vincent was up at his usual time. He had realized, when he had awoken and heard the faster heart rate in his head that there was one key element that he had failed to mention to Father. He hurried his dressing and sought out his parent in the hospital chamber.

"Ah, Vincent, good morning." Father and Mary were sorting through the inventory of medical supplies. "We are looking through everything to be sure we have all we need for Catherine. Peter sent a note this morning. He wants to transfer here as soon as he can; perhaps later this evening."

"She looked much better last night, but she seemed confused about where she was. My presence seemed to comfort her."

"Then we should get her here quickly." Father turned to Mary. "Do you think we have enough IV tubing? I'm not sure if she'll still need fluids or not, but she will likely need the antibiotics for several more days."

"Father," Vincent interrupted. "I must speak to you." He looked at Mary.

"Oh," she said. "I'll just go check the other cupboard and see." She walked off to the other side of the hospital chamber.

"What is it, Vincent?"

"Father, when I found Catherine the other night, right before she collapsed, she told me something rather amazing. I've been thinking on it and I believe I've realized why I was able to find her."

"Tell me."

"The child that Catherine delivered that night is my child."

"What?"

"A son. She said he is beautiful."

"Where is he?"

"He was taken, by the man that held Catherine all this time."

Father sat down stiffly. "How did you find Catherine, Vincent?"

Vincent began to pace. "I thought our Bond had returned. I felt something and it drew me to her, to that rooftop. But when I arrived, the helicopter was leaving. I thought it was taking her from me again, but then I turned and saw her. I've been thinking on this Father. I think what I've been feeling is our son."

"Do you sense him all the time?"

"If I concentrate on it. But, sometimes the feeling increases; it comes in waves and then is quiet again. However, it is getting stronger, as he is getting stronger."

"Do you think you could find him again?"

"It was so strong that night, the night he was born."

"The trauma of birth."

"Yes, it hasn't felt that strong since."

"Well, in a way. That is a good thing. He is well and safe, despite being cared for a by a madman."

"I'm torn, Father. I still have no sense of Catherine. I know where she is and if there is any change, Peter will contact us immediately, but I do not feel at ease unless I am near her. And then there is the child, my sense of him is pulling me."

"Where?"

"I am not sure and so I remain here."

Father reached up and patted Vincent's arm. "I think we should get Catherine settled here Below. When she is here, where you can be sure she is safe, and healthy, then go find your son."

"But, Father," Vincent protested. "He is out there, alone, without his parents."

"Vincent, if he were ill or injured or in immediate danger, you would know. This man kept Catherine because he wanted the baby. He meant to kill her after she delivered. He will keep your son safe, at least for now."


	6. Chapter 6

All he knew was need. He wasn't sure what he needed, but he knew he needed it now. There were only two things to do. Lie there and wait or call out to those others who would come in and give it to him. He was by nature peaceful and patient and so he laid quietly staring at the ceiling and waited. The need gnawed at him. He shifted where he lay. He squirmed and tried to wait some more. But by now, the discomfort became so acute that he couldn't help it. He called, quietly at first, a soft mewing sound. Nothing, just more of the need. He kicked his feet and flailed his arms free, but that did not ease the feeling of need. He couldn't take it anymore and he began to scream and cry, louder and louder. He kicked some more and the blanket covering him came off and bunched at the end of the bed. He cried and cried. Finally, a crack of light opened up the darkness and She walked in.

She came to him and lifted him up. She changed his lower clothes then sat in a chair. She put the bottle to his mouth and he drank. She burped him, clinically, and laid him back in the bed. She pulled the blanket back over him and left the room. She never said a word or touched him except as She absolutely had to.

He expected the light to go off then. It usually did. But this time a Man came in and leaned over the bed. The Man reached out and touched his hand and stroked his cheek. He reached out and grasped the ring on the Man's hand. Then the Man whispered, "Go on. Grasp it. Don't be afraid. The day will come. You'll know the truth. When the ring is on your finger, that day, your life will truly begin. Listen to the shadows. Nothing is impossible. The truths are so simple. Their fear will build your castles. Their greed will make them slaves. Look. When they close their eyes. Push forward whenever they pull back. Eat the meals they dare not taste. The power will come so easily. Century after century, the truths never change. Someday. Sleep now. Grow strong, my son, my Julian."

He didn't want to sleep. There was still need growing in him, but the change and the bottle had satiated most of this desire and in spite of himself, he felt his eyelids drooping. The Man spoke as if he was his parent, his father. But he wasn't. And suddenly, his eyes popped open and he knew what his true need was.

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Joe had spent the better part of the morning tracking down all the Dr. Peter Alcotts in the city. Fortunately, there were only three and the first two had never even heard of Catherine Chandler. The third wouldn't even get on the phone with him. So Joe pulled on his rumpled suit coat and went out again into the city. He carried with him his copy of the initial results that Hughes had given him and found his way to Dr. Alcott's office.

Peter's near run-in with the police officers at the hospital nurse's desk had rattled him. He began to think that maybe it didn't matter if Cathy would stay awake or stand or eat anything. He began to think that it might be best to get her Below as soon as he could. He was thinking over plans and ideas in the back of his head all day while seeing his patients in the clinic. Finally, there was a lull in the afternoon and he went to his office to pen another note to Jacob. He heard voices rising and it caught his attention. As Peter walked to the front of the clinic, he could see his receptionist, Rita, and one of his nurses, Marlene, arguing with a younger man in a rumpled suit. He was holding up a manila folder.

"Look, all I need is to talk to him. I can make an appointment if I need to. Just tell him I need to talk to him!"

"I'm sorry sir. Dr. Alcott is all booked up for today and he is too busy to simply speak to you. If you are not a patient of his, you'll have to wait for his first available appointment, which is in six weeks," Rita said, in a soothing tone.

"Do not condescend to me!" Joe cried. "I need to see Dr Alcott now."

Peter stepped in. "What is all this about, Marlene?"

"This _gentleman_ was harassing Rita about seeing you, doctor. We were trying to explain to him that you are booked for the day."

"What is this about?" Peter asked Joe.

"A mutual friend," Joe answered.

"Who?"

"Cathy Chandler."

Peter's heart nearly stopped at Joe's words. "Thanks ladies, but I'll meet with him. My 3:00 is a no-show. When Mrs. Miller is settled, come get me in my office." Peter nodded to his employees and then escorted Joe back through the clinic to his office. He closed a door, moved a pile of charts off one of the chairs and indicated Joe should sit down. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?" Peter asked, sitting in his own chair across the desk.

"Joe Maxwell, sir. I worked – No I _work_ with Cathy."

"You're with the DA's office?" Peter was definitely tachycardic. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

"Not at the moment. I've been suspended." Peter calmed a bit at that news. "It was because of my search for Cathy. My other work suffered. I'm not here in any official capacity, sir. I simply want to know what happened to Cathy."

"Do you always show such concerns for your work colleagues?"

Joe blushed and looked down. "Cathy is special."

"Are you in love with her?"

"Everyone seems to think so." Joe shook his head. This wasn't supposed to be about him. This was about Peter Alcott and the bottle of Narcan on Cathy's bedside table. He cleared his throat. "I know that you are the executor of Cathy's estate and an old family friend."

Peter frowned a bit. How had Joe come by this knowledge? Well, it was the truth. "Yes, I am. I went to college with her father. I actually delivered Cathy. After her father died, she was left alone with no family. I think of her as a surrogate daughter. What brings you here?"

"I wasn't sure if you heard, but there has been a break in her case."

Peter's heart started back up again. "What?"

"The cleaning woman you hired found a large bloodstain on Cathy's bed two days ago. She called the police."

"Dammit," Peter thought. Aloud he asked, "Is it Cathy's?"

"Yes."

"Well, where is she then?"

"That was going to be my question for you sir. The police also found an empty bottle of Narcan and a syringe. The fingerprints on them are yours."

"Dammit, dammit!" Peter cursed in his mind. He stayed silent. "Plead the Fifth," he thought, remembering an old joke with Charles.

"Where is she, Dr. Alcott."

"I can't tell you."

"Can't or won't, Dr. Alcott? Look, your fingerprints are all over her apartment. They are on the bottle and the syringe. Who did you inject on Cathy Chandler's bed?"

"I can't tell you."

"Okay, I will have to return with a warrant. Don't go anywhere, Dr. Alcott. I will find her and if you had anything to do with her disappearance, well. A judge isn't going to care who delivered her when they are sentencing her kidnapper." Joe stormed out of Peter's office and out of the building.

Peter sat there stunned for a moment, then hurried out of his office. "Marlene," he called. "I need to cancel the rest of my day. There's an emergency."

"Of course doctor." This was not an unheard of event for a Family Practitioner, but coming on the heels of Joe Maxwell flying out the door, it made Marlene somewhat suspicious. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, just reschedule the rest of the day. Thanks!" And then Dr. Alcott was flying out the door, still in his white coat with his stethoscope draped around his neck.

Peter went directly to the basement of the office building and sought out the special pipe Pascal's father had installed when Peter started his practice. He tapped out a message - "Father prepare to move C NOW. Peter" - and then returned up two flights to the main floor. He flagged a taxi and headed to the hospital where Catherine was as quickly as possible.

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Joe found a payphone and tried Diana Bennett, but she didn't answer. She wasn't home. She was in the front office of Elliot Burch, waiting to be seen. Suddenly, the door opened and a handsome bearded man with piercing blue eyes approached her.

"Ms. Bennett?" At her nod he extended his hand. She took it. "I'm Elliot Burch. Please come in."

They walked into his office and he shut the door. He indicated a chair by his desk and stood and looked out the window.

"I'm investigating the disappearance of Catherine Chandler."

"You want to know who kidnapped her."

"Was it you?"

"No."

"Do you know who did?"

"No."

"But you'll find out." It wasn't a question.

"I suppose, if you do your job." He began to walk to the door of his office and she stood and followed him.

"How do you feel about Vincent?"

"Who?"

"Cathy had been seeing him for the last two years."

"We never discussed him."

"You ever meet him?"

"Nope. Look, I've told you everything I know."

Diana took a business card out her purse. "No, I don't think you have Mr. Burch. But I'd appreciate you telling me the truth about one thing."

He took the card. "What's that?"

"I want to find him too. So call me. At least tell me whether or not I'm looking for a dead man." She walked out past him. "I hate wasting my time."

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

It had been difficult, but it was done. Father leaned on his cane and looked at his old friend, sitting quietly in his study. Peter laid his head back and kept his eyes closed for a long time.

Peter had gotten to the hospital where he found Catherine relatively unchanged, but also undisturbed. Chelsea was dozing in her chair. She had startled when he entered the room. She had agreed to his plan, but he cursed the necessary paper trail. Hiring a private ambulance to transfer her and getting it to stop in an alleyway had been the easiest part of the plan. The bureaucratic red tape was another matter! He had forged the transfer papers and made up the name of an attending at a rehabilitation hospital in Newark. Some day soon, that was going to come back to haunt him. Joe Maxwell's words kept ringing in his ears. Maybe it was time to retire.

Vincent had met them at the entrance with a stretcher and two strong men to bear it. When Peter's frantic call had come over the pipes, Pascal had worked double time getting everyone into place. They transferred Catherine to the stretcher from the ambulance gurney and sent the ambulance away. One hundred dollars in the pockets of the driver and his assistant had bought their silence. Chelsea followed the stretcher Below with Peter. Vincent had carried her IV bag and walked the entire way, holding Catherine's hand in his. Peter had assumed that they would be settling her into the hospital chamber, but said nothing when the last set of stretcher bearers went directly to Vincent's chamber. They settled Catherine into bed and Chelsea changed the IV bag and hung the new one on the pole next to the head of the bed. She stood quietly to the side, talking in a low voice to Mary. Peter put the bag of supplies he had brought for her on the table and then conferred with Jacob. While Father was busy with his new patient, Peter had gone to his study to just relax.

Father stood watching him from the doorway. "You should stay here tonight, Peter."

"I may take you up on that, old friend."

"Stay for a few days."

"I'm tempted, but I need to return. To keep this secret, things must continue as normally as possible."

Father looked at him. "What is it Peter?"

"Did Vincent tell you about the police?"

"Yes. He said both of you forgot to clean up. You were both relieved at finding her and then consumed with saving her life."

"I didn't wear gloves when I started her line and gave her the Narcan. And I didn't take the bottle or syringe with me."

"What does that matter?"

"Fingerprints, Jacob. A Joe Maxwell from the DA's office came to the clinic with some hard questions to answer. And I will have to answer."

"Well, if you need to disappear, you are always welcome here."

"Thank-you, but I have so many other responsibilities Above. By running my own practice, I've been able to help you so over the years. But, it comes at a cost. Perhaps I'll go out and visit Susan."

"That is a good idea. Let me see about a guest chamber and some dinner for you. That is a long walk. You must be exhausted."

"Thank-you, Jacob."

"No, old friend. It is I who must thank you."


	7. Chapter 7

Catherine woke slowly. There was a vague pain in her belly and pressure on her chest. The next thing she was aware of was sound. There were clatterings and metallic tappings around her that made no sense. It was strange, she thought, to hear something after so many months of silence. It reminded her of being Below, with Vincent. She kept her eyes closed, holding on to the memory. How she missed the sounds of the Tunnels after so many months of white, bright walls and silence. Her captors kept her in a room so far above the ground that she often went days without hearing the normal sounds she had grown up with – the sounds of the city. No one spoke to her, other than to ask her to move or lie back or extend her arm. She was going slowly insane from lack of human interaction.

She turned her head when she heard someone walking about the room. She refused to open her eyes. She couldn't face the nurse who silently brought her food, who said as few words as possible to her and only when necessary, who guided her to the dreaded exams with an evil clinical glee. Catherine sighed. How she wished to see Vincent. She wished with all her heart that she would open her eyes to find herself lying in his chamber, to see him sitting, reading at his table, the candlelight making his hair glow.

"Catherine," that amazing voice from her dreams whispered. "Open your eyes, Catherine."

"Mmm. No."

"No?"

"Don't wanna wake up."

"You must."

"Dream will end."

"The dream is just beginning."

Catherine frowned and against her better judgment, opened her eyes. She was lying on Vincent's bed in his chamber and the candlelight was making his golden mane glow. "Oh, God," she whispered. "Is it real?"

"Yes, Catherine. This is real. You are safe now, my love."

Catherine stretched out a shaky hand to Vincent who caught it and brought her fingers to his lips. He kissed them gently. "You're safe. You're here." She blinked slowly and then looked at him again. His blue eyes shone from under the ridge of his brows and then crinkled as he smiled. She smiled and tried to laugh, but it turned into a sob. Another followed and then another. Vincent gathered her up in his arms and held her as she cried and cried and cried.

Mary was on her way to check her patient when she heard Catherine's sobs from the hallway. She knew Vincent was with her, so she detoured to Father's chamber and found him with Peter. They had been discussing how to explain Peter's fingerprints on the Narcan bottle in Catherine's apartment when Mary entered. "She's awake." All three hurried to Vincent's chamber.

Father had initially balked at having Catherine in Vincent's quarters rather than the hospital chamber, but now he was glad he had lost that argument. He was glad his son was close to her. After what she had been through, she needed Vincent and his all-encompassing love around her.

The three all paused at the entrance to Vincent's chamber and took in the sight of Vincent holding Catherine and rocking her gently. Her sobs had begun to quiet and they could hear Vincent crooning in her ear. They waited quietly for Catherine to calm. Her sobs stopped, but tears continued to stream down her cheeks. She took several shaky, shuddering breaths. She looked up at Vincent.

"Is it over?"

"Yes."

She took another deep breath and buried her face in his neck, his hair falling over her head. He kissed the top of her head and turned to the others. "Catherine, can Father and Peter see to you now?"

She nodded and the three entered the room fully. Mary held Father's bag and stood to one side, waiting for direction. Peter approached the bed first. Vincent laid her back on the pillows and reluctantly stepped away.

"Hi, honey," Peter said.

"Oh, Peter. I thought I'd dreamed you too."

"Nope. I'm real. How are you feeling?"

"Sore, tired, hungry, confused."

"All right. We can take care of all that. Jacob, will you?"

"Of course, Peter." Father stepped forward with his stethoscope in hand. "Welcome home, Catherine."

"Home?" she asked.

"Of course." Father put the stethoscope in his ears and placed the bell on her chest. "Deep breaths, my dear." Everyone stayed silent as Father finished his examination. He stepped back and handed his stethoscope back to Mary. "You may want to check as well, Peter, since you've seen her from the beginning, but it appears as if she is continuing her recovery. Heart rate is regular. Lungs are clear. Her belly is not tender. She doesn't seem dehydrated. I suggest a meal and a bath. Mary?"

"I'll send a message to the kitchens."

"Wait," Catherine said weakly. "I have to know. What happened to me? How did I get here?"

Peter sat beside her on the bed and took her hand. "Vincent found you."

"Where was I? How long was I gone?"

"Just over six months," Vincent replied.

"Vincent looked for you every night," Father added. "Finally, three nights ago, he found you."

"You were very ill," Peter continued. "You had been given an over-dose of morphine. You had recently given birth and retained the placenta. You had a terrible infection and were bleeding profusely."

"I thought I'd lost you," Vincent murmured.

"But we didn't." Peter looked up at Vincent significantly. "Vincent took you to your apartment and when he discovered you were still alive, he called me. I took you to a hospital under an assumed name and stabilized you there. We transferred you here just last night."

"Where is my baby?"

"I'm not sure," Vincent said. "But we will find him."

Mary had stopped the conversation then, insisting that Catherine needed food and a bath and a change of clothing. She shooed the older men out, but kept Vincent for his brute strength alone. Mary bathed Catherine in the bed and with Vincent's help, washed her hair. She changed her into clean, warm clothing. Vincent lifted her tenderly from the bed and set her in a chair while he and Mary changed the bed. He put her back into the clean bed and she sighed happily. Mary brought over a bowl of soup and some bread.

"I'll leave you two, now," Mary smiled and gathered up the laundry.

"Mary, wait," Catherine said. She looked up at Vincent and then lowered her eyes. Their Bond had not completely returned, but Vincent knew she needed a private word with Mary. He stepped away silently and stood near the door.

"Mary, my breasts are so sore."

"Oh, your milk has come in."

"What should I do? I want to find him and I want to be the one to feed him. But, it hurts."

"I believe we have a hand-pump in the hospital chamber. I'm not certain if we can save your milk, but if you keep pumping, you won't lose it. And then when we find him, you'll be ready for him."

"Will that work?"

"I've heard of women who deliver too early and the child must remain in the hospital. The mothers pump their milk until the child is strong enough to nurse. It will be the same thing." Mary patted her hand. "You eat and then I'll come help you in a little while."

"Thank-you, Mary."

"My pleasure. I'm just so glad you're back." Mary stood and walked to the door. She stopped by Vincent. "Are you all right, dear?" she asked him.

"A bit over-whelmed, but she is here and she will be well. I've never been better." He smiled.

Mary smiled in return. "I'll be back soon. You be sure to eat as well."

Vincent returned to the table and began to prepare the food for her. Catherine tried to sit up higher in the bed, but fell back weakly. Vincent came to her and eased her up on the pillows. He returned to the table and brought over the soup.

"Thank-you," she said. "I've never felt this weak."

"You bled a lot. With the infection and the morphine, you have a lot to recover from." He sat near her and ladled out a spoonful. "Let me care for you, Catherine. I need to."

She sipped the soup off the spoon and looked into his eyes. "Was it difficult?" she asked after swallowing. "While I was in the hospital?"

"Yes," he breathed, spooning up more soup. "It was difficult when I didn't know where you were. Then, when I knew where you were, but couldn't be close to you, it was worse."

"That is how it was for me, when they had me. I was trapped up in that room for months. I knew if I could just get to a stairwell and out the door, I could find you. I knew you were looking for me. I knew how hard it was for you, to not know where I was."

"What happened, Catherine?"

She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the pillow, thinking back. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Did you get my message?"

"You wanted me to meet you at your threshold."

"Yes. I was leaving work to go there directly. I had been working on something. Did I tell you Joe had been injured?"  
"I don't believe so."

"You were still so sick. I didn't want to burden you with anything. Joe had met with an old friend from law school who was working for a big firm. He discovered some illegal dealings and had a ledger with information. He gave it to Joe. Then, he got into his car and it exploded, killing him and gravely injuring Joe.

"When I visited Joe in the hospital, he asked me to take the ledger and look into it. I donated blood for him. That is when I found out."

"Found out what," Vincent asked.

"About the baby." He took her hand. "I rushed here to tell you, but you were still so weak and upset over the loss of our Bond. I didn't want to worry you."

"Is that what you meant? 'Maybe the gift will return to you in a different form; something you had never even dreamed of.' I never would have dreamt of a child, not then."

"No, I know. But I thought we had all the time in the world. I had no idea what was in that ledger and that it would cause all of this."

"What was in it?"

"I'm still not sure. I showed it to John, since Joe was still out, as my direct supervisor. He asked for it, but I made him a copy. Then, I showed it to Elliot Burch."

"Did Elliot..?"

"No," Catherine interrupted. "Elliot had nothing to do with this." She took a deep breath and allowed herself to remember and to tell Vincent what had happened.

"The next day, I decided I would tell you about the baby. I had thought about it and worrying over your reaction and finally, I couldn't take not knowing what you'd say anymore. I just had to tell you and find out.

"I sent you that note and gathered up my things and briefcase and went to the parking garage. When I got in my car, someone approached it with a gun. I tried to escape in the car, but they had cut me off. I left the car and ran for the elevator. When it opened, I saw John. I thought I was safe. Then, he nodded to two men behind me and they took me."

"John? John Moreno? Your boss. The district attorney?"

"Yes." She was crying openly. "That betrayal has haunted me all this time."

Vincent gathered her up and held her crying form to his chest. His mind was racing. Finally, he pulled back and looked at her face. "Tell me the rest."

"They drugged me almost immediately. I remember feeling so hazy and confused. They wanted the ledger and I couldn't tell them where it was."  
"Why not? Wouldn't they have let you go if you had?"

"I couldn't, Vincent. I had given Elliot another copy and hid the original behind some loose bricks just past the threshold in my apartment building. If I told them where it was, they would have found you. I couldn't let anything happen."

"How did you resist?"

She pressed her lips together. "You are everything to me. Everything."

He pulled her back to his arms and pressed his lips to her hair. They stayed together, motionless, for several minutes.

"Tell me the rest."

"They had found out about the baby. I had morning sickness and they did all sorts of things to me. But, they stopped because of the baby. I found myself somewhat lucid at one point and noticed the pipes in my room."

"And sent a message and I found you."

"I think the man in charge of everything saw you then and determined that my baby was yours. He saw your power and strength and wanted that child for his own."

"I should have followed the car. I should have hung on tighter. I should have..." Vincent held her firmer in an almost painful grip. Catherine pulled herself back and looked in his eyes.

"Don't, Vincent. I have had months alone in that room to think of 'should haves' and 'if only's.' I won't let you do that to yourself. It is done now." She freed her hands and pulled his head down to her and kissed his brow. "It is done."

"You were moved to a different place and they just kept you there until you gave birth?"

She nodded. "I was completely isolated. No one spoke to me, except as part of the examinations. I was all alone, except for him. Our baby. I'd whisper to him.

"Then, three days ago? Four? I'm not sure. I went into labor. I knew what would happen when he was born. I knew that man would take him and likely kill me. I tried to hide it as long as I could, but it just hurt so much. They showed him to me, but I couldn't touch him. Then, they snatched him away. I didn't even deliver the afterbirth before the doctor gave me that injection."

"I went to the roof. I never felt you inside that building. When the helicopter flew off, I thought you were gone again. And then, you were in my arms."

"It was him, taking our baby." Catherine leaned back against the pillows, exhausted.

"I thought you died, there on the roof."

"I thought I did too. I was so glad I got to see you again." Vincent laid his head on her shoulder and they were both silent again. Catherine raised a shaky hand and stroked his hair. "Vincent?" He raised his head and looked at her. "How did you find me?"

"I've thought about it a great deal. I thought our Bond had returned, but I don't think so now. I don't feel you now as I once did. I think." He paused, afraid of what this revelation would do to her fragile state. "I think I felt the child."

"What? You can feel him? Go! Find him!" She was frantic and her eyes were wild. "Vincent!"

"Shh, Catherine. Let me explain." He calmed her and laid her back on the pillows. "I've spoken with Father and he agrees. This connection with our child is flimsy and delicate. I felt him so strongly the day he was born due to the trauma of birth. Now, I only sense him when he is in distress. Only if I am very still and quiet can I get any sense of him at all. It is too weak for me to pinpoint his location. I need more information."

Catherine closed her eyes and tears leaked out. "I thought..." she whispered.

"I know. I would if I could." He stroked her face gently. "You have been awake longer now than you have in nearly four days. Rest now. Let me go speak to Peter and to Father. They found Peter's fingerprints in your apartment and Joe Maxwell from the DA's office has questioned him. We need to find out what to do."

"I trust Joe. If he knew what was in that ledger or had any inkling of what Moreno was capable of, he never would have had me investigate. I also trust Elliot Burch." Her eyes were closing of their own accord.

Vincent bent and kissed her forehead. "Rest now, Catherine. I'll ask Mary or Jamie to sit with you. I must speak with Peter and with Father."

"I love you," she murmured, falling asleep with tears still wet on her cheeks.

He gently traced the track of her tears with one finger. "And I love you, Catherine."


	8. Chapter 8

"Cleon, I've got people from the police department asking me about Cathy. Tell me you've got something, anything, for me." Elliot Burch ran his hands through his hair and looked down at his private investigator.

"Sorry, boss. I think I'm on to something and then it all goes south."

"No trace of her?" Cleon shook his head. "No Jane Doe's admitted that night match her description?"

"Nope."

"That detective asked me about a guy named Vincent. You find anything?"

"Not a trace."

"What about the ledger she gave me?"

"We know that the top guy is working through Malloy-Davidson and he's got people in the police department and the DA's office. But who he is or works for? Nothing." Cleon stood up and grasped Elliot's shoulder. "Look, boss. Maybe it is time to let it go."

"What?"

"Maybe she can't be found. Maybe she doesn't want to be."

"I don't believe that."

"Well, I don't think I'm the one to do it."

"There's finally a break, Cleon! This could be it! We just need to try harder."

"I'll give it another week." Elliot sighed in frustration. "I've got a family, man. My guys have families. This is dangerous. Whoever that guy is, he's dangerous. And he don't want to be found."

"All right, Cleon. One more week." Elliot walked over to the window and looked out over the city. Cleon shook his head and left the room. Elliot continued to look out the window. "Ah, Cathy, Cathy. Where are you?" he whispered. A noise at the door brought his head up. "Did you forget something, Cleon?"

"Don't be frightened," a gravelled voice coming from a black cloak in the shadows said.

Elliot turned and stared. "Who are you?"

"I'm Vincent."

Elliot moved towards a lamp. "Please, don't," Vincent said. Elliot stopped.

"So, you're Vincent. A lot of people want to talk to you." Vincent remained silent. "What can I do for you, Vincent?"

"Catherine trusted you, Elliot."

"Yes."

"Can I?"

"I don't know, Vincent. Trust is usually earned."

"I haven't the time. And I need help."

"Does it have to do with Catherine?" Vincent nodded once. "Do you know where she is?"

Vincent hesitated and then shook his head. He hated to lie, but he still wasn't sure if Elliot was trustworthy enough to keep all his secrets. "I know where she was held, for a time."

"Is she still there?"

"I do not believe so. I need information about this place, Elliot. A man of your resources should have no difficulty finding that information."

"You want to know who owns the building? Who rented space there?"

Vincent nodded again. "Also, have you had any luck with the ledger?"

"How do you know about that?"

"I also have resources."

Elliot sighed and sat down on the sofa between his desk and the door. "I've been working on it. I've sent it to cryptologists. I can only get through part of it. The rest of it is too deeply encoded." He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "I do know that two companies, Malloy-Davidson and Hammond-Norton Trust, are implicated in the ledger. I know that they have people in the police department and in the DA's office. So, who can you trust? And, they are giving my business a hard time. I'm having difficulty in getting funding for a new project and my casino in Atlantic City just burned to the ground. Over 200 innocent people died. I believe those companies are a front for someone else and he is trying to send me a message. He wants me to back off my search for Cathy."

"Be careful, Elliot. The way is dangerous and not yet clear. You do not have to commit yourself."

"I know." Elliot stood up and walked over to his liquor cabinet and poured some Scotch into a highball glass. "But, it's Cathy, you know? I can't rest until I know." He tossed back his drink.

"I do know."

"What is the address?"

"1900 Sixth Avenue."

Elliot nodded. "How can I get in touch with you?" Elliot turned back to the bottle and poured himself another measure of Scotch.

"I'll contact you. Tomorrow."

Elliot turned back, "But what if...?" His question went unasked because Vincent was gone.

**C&VC&VC&VC&V  
**

It was early in the morning when Diana thanked the uniformed officer and entered Catherine's darkened apartment. The officer flipped on the light and closed the door. Diana let her bag fall slowly to the ground and then turned off the lights. She leaned on one of the sofas and looked around the room. Her eye lit on the doors to the bedroom and she walked in. The bloodied bedspread had been removed, but Diana could see it there in her mind's eye. She walked in and ran her hand over the pillow. She turned to the balcony doors and went out. She looked at the view, the surrounding buildings and the park below. There were dead plants scattered about and a rosebush in a large container on its last legs. She touched the brown leaves lightly.

She walked back inside through the doors in the dinette and went to the desk in the corner. She sat down and examined the contents. There was a photograph in a frame on one side, presumably her mother. On the other side, there was a framed invitation. It was a drawing of a stringed instrument with the words "You're Invited" written in crayon. Curious, Diana pulled the frame towards her, turned it over and removed the back. She took the invitation out and opened it. Inside, in a flowing script decidedly different from the crayoned words on the front, was written, "The children are putting on a concert tonight. Meet me Below at the threshold. Vincent."

Diana turned the card over, but it was blank on the back. She stood up from the desk and walked over to the couch. "Below at the threshold," she murmured. "The threshold Below? Hmm." She put the card in her bag and then stood and left the apartment.

She nodded at the uniform and took the elevator to the basement. She walked along the walls, looking for doorways. She nearly missed it, but there in the dark corner was the edge of a doorway. There were boxes piled in front of it, but they proved easy to move as they were mostly empty. Diana reached out and pulled on the handle. The door opened into a hole in the wall that went down. She couldn't see the bottom. She dug around in her bag and pulled out a flashlight and shown it down the hole. She could see bottom and a set of rungs set into the wall. She turned off the flashlight, tucked it in her bag and threw the whole thing over her shoulder. She climbed down the rungs. At the bottom, she fished out the flashlight and looked around. She stepped out of a bluish shaft of light and saw a hole in a brick wall. She stepped through it. At that moment, her flashlight went out.

Diana was a fairly brave woman, but traveling in underground tunnels in the dark was at the end of her courage. She climbed back up the rungs and returned to the basement. She closed the door and replaced the boxes. "Well, Catherine Chandler. It looks like you've got quite the secret there." She brushed off her hands walked back up to the ground level. Once outside, she caught a cab and headed over to Joe's apartment.

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Joe was frustrated. He had spent the morning trying to contact Diana Bennett and getting a warrant for Peter Alcott. Since he was suspended and not officially involved in the Catherine Chandler case, he couldn't ask for or receive a warrant. He had no legal capacity to question anyone, but the numerous receptionists and assistants he had spoken with in that hour would be happy to pass his concerns on to the investigators in charge.

Diana Bennett was not answering her phone. He had gotten through once and her boyfriend said she was working a case and couldn't be disturbed.

"But I'm working it with her!"

"Yeah, right. She always works alone." The boyfriend hung up.

Joe sat back on his couch and rubbed a hand over his face. He was thinking of going over to Bennett's apartment, when there was a knock at the door. Joe groaned and rose to open it and stood stunned when he saw who it was.

"Good morning, Joe," Peter said.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm ready to answer your questions." Joe just stood there. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure come in, come in." Joe guided him past the piles of empty take out containers and pushed a stack of papers off a chair. "Sit down. Can I get you some coffee?"

"No, thank-you." Peter sat gingerly on the edge of the offered chair. "I need to know that I can trust you."

"What do you mean? Of course you can."

"No, Joe. This is serious. This is more than Cathy, more than her kidnapping. Hundreds of lives are at stake."  
"Well, now I'm intrigued, doctor. What do your fingerprints on a bottle of Narcan in Cathy Chandler's apartment have to do with hundreds of lives?"

"Well, the short answer is that I saved her life four days ago with that bottle of Narcan."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Yes."

"Is she okay?"

"She will be."

"Where is she?"

"Hundreds of lives. It's complicated, Joe."

"Yeah, sure, sure. But, doc," Joe stammered. "She's okay? Cathy's okay?"

Peter reached out and clasped the younger man's forearm. "Yes, Joe. She's fine."

There was a knock at the door. Joe got up to answer it, still in a daze. Diana Bennett came in talking.

"Joe, I was at Cathy's apartment this morning and I found something that you missed and the police missed and I think it's important, but I wanted to run it by you first." She turned and stopped suddenly as she noticed Peter sitting still gingerly on his chair. "Hello."

"Diana Bennett, this is Dr. Peter Alcott."

"Hi."

"Nice to meet you," Peter extended his hand, but she ignored it.

"Joe." She pulled him to the side. "What are you doing interviewing him here?"

"He found me, Diana. I went to his office yesterday, but he wouldn't talk. I left to get a warrant. I couldn't get one and this morning, he knocks on my door."

"Huh." Diana turned back toward the doctor.

"Who is this, Joe? Can I trust her?"

"Yeah. She's working the case for me."

"Is she a cop?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm a special investigator with the 210, special crimes. Who are you? Why were you in Cathy's apartment with Narcan?"

"You should know who I am. I'm the executor of Cathy's estate and her next of kin. I've been taking care of her property while she is missing."

"So what do you know about a huge bloodstain belonging to Cathy on her bed? What was the Narcan for? Where is Cathy Chandler, doctor?"

"As I just told Joe, she is safe."

"But where?"

"Look, I can't tell you. I only have permission to speak to Joe."

"Permission?" Diana was outraged. "Did you have anything to do with her kidnapping?"

"What? No! Look, it's complicated and it's a secret that I have kept my entire professional life. I can't tell just anyone."

"What can you tell us, doctor?

Peter stood up and paced around the living room. Joe and Diana sat on the couch. Intrinsically, they both knew that Peter did not kidnap Catherine, but he very likely was the only one who knew where she was. They sat in silence and let him order his thoughts. After a few moments, Peter began to speak.

Joe, do you remember right before Cathy came to work for you at the DA's office? She had been attacked."

"Yeah, her face was slashed up and she had disappeared for ten days. She said she didn't know where she was." Diana looked at them. "What?"

"You've only had this case for two, three days at most? You work fast, Bennett."

"Most of my cases need me to work fast."

"Anyway," Peter said pointedly. "She did know where she was. She was bound by a secret, just as I am. When she was attacked, someone from a secret community found her and nursed her back to health."

"What is this community?" Joe asked.

"It is a group of people who either cannot or choose not to live among regular society. They have formed their own society and live on the fringes of ours. They have rules and a governing body. Everyone works together and helps each other. Some people live their entire lives in this community. Some come for a short time. Cathy was nursed back to health there. She also stayed there when her father died. This community cannot survive without helpers from our society. I have been a helper since the start. I attended medical school with one of the founders. Cathy recently became a helper. One of them found her. He thought she was dead and brought her to her apartment, but she was still alive. He feared for his safety as well, so rather than call an ambulance, he called me. I revived her with the Narcan. And now, she is Below, where she is safe."

Peter didn't catch his slip and it went right by Joe, but Diana caught it and began to think.

"Doc, you've got to take me to her. I've got to see her."

"She's safe, Joe. For now, that's all I can do."

"The threshold Below," whispered Diana. "Dr. Alcott," she said aloud. "Does someone named Vincent live in this community?"

Peter started at the name. "Yes, why?"

Joe interrupted Diana. "We found things with his name in Cathy's apartment: books, letters."

"An invitation. It said to meet him Below at the threshold." She turned to Joe. "I was coming here because I found a hole in Cathy's basement. It lead to a tunnel. Then, my flashlight gave out." She turned back to Peter. "Where is this community, doctor?"

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Vincent was walking up to a helper's to send a message to Elliot Burch. Suddenly, he felt something in the pit of his stomach. He stopped and leaned against the tunnel wall for support. It was there again – the pounding, the buzzing. He knew it now. It was his child. "Hold on, my son. We will find you."


	9. Chapter 9

"Miss Bennett, if you've heard anything I've said, then you know I cannot answer that."

"Very convenient, doctor. How can we trust you, when you give us a fairy tale of some utopian community?"

"How can I trust you, Detective?" Peter fired back. "I know that whomever took Cathy has people working for him in the DA's office, the police force, and God knows what else!"

"Hey!" Joe said indignantly.

"The point is," Peter said. "I cannot tell you more than I have. Catherine is safe, in a safe place. I will not say anymore."

"Then I guess I gotta go buy flashlight batteries." Diana jumped up and prepared to go out the door.

"Wait." Peter sighed. "Before you go traipsing all over creation, give me a little time. Let me see what I can do."

"And in the meantime?" Joe asked.

"Be patient." Peter picked up his coat and quickly left the apartment, leaving Diana and Joe in his wake.

"Can you believe that?" Diana asked after a moment. "I ought to arrest him as an accessory."

"You've got nothing to hold him," Joe replied, ever the ADA.

They were quiet for a minute. "You know what he didn't mention?"

"What," Joe asked.

"Cathy's baby. Do you think it's with her?"

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

The stoic Asian nurse stood before his desk. Her hands were clasped in front of her, but otherwise, she betrayed no emotion.

"What is wrong with him then?"

"He won't take the formula. He turns away from the bottle. What little he takes, he spits up."

"What does the doctor say?"

"He thinks it is a formula intolerance."

"So try a different formula."

"I have. Three different ones. He turns away from Pedialyte as well."

"Tell the doctor to do what is necessary. My son must live and thrive."

"Yes, sir." The nurse left the room.

The man leaned back in his chair and looked at the monitor on the edge of his desk. There was an image of a newborn crying and kicking his legs up and down. "It is too late for his mother, but perhaps his natural father can help."

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

Elliot left his office near midnight. He walked to the elevator, flanked by his two body guards and went down to the parking garage in the basement. They all entered the car and drove up to the surface. "As the car went around a curve, a hideous sight was illuminated by the headlights. Strung up with chains, hanging from the support beams was the body of Elliot's private investigator, Cleon Manning. The driver came to a sudden stop. "Sir?" he asked.

"Keep going," Elliot said in a stunned voice.

After driving through the relatively quiet streets, the Town car stopped near the carousel in Central Park. One of the bodyguards opened the door for Elliot. "Are you sure, sir?" He looked around the darkened area apprehensively.

"Ten minutes." Elliot adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and walked towards the carousel. He found the door Vincent had mentioned in his note and pushed it open. It was a bit eerie in there with the carousel horses standing still and the moonlight streaming in through the open roof. It was hard to see in there. "Vincent?" he whispered.

In a shadow to Elliot's left, Vincent called, "I'm here." Elliot moved towards him, but he said, "Come no further." Elliot stopped. "What have you found?"

"I can't find who owns the building, or even who rented part of it. It is hidden among mazes of holding companies and third-party lease backs. My people say it will take months to trace. This man, he killed my private investigator, a friend. He left his corpse as a warning to me. What kind of man is that? He has no scruples, no moral code. He will do anything to get what he wants."

Just as Vincent was about to reply, there was a creak as the door swung open. Elliot turned to Vincent, but he melted into the shadows. Elliot turned back to the door and a short, balding man stepped into the light. A second, taller man was behind him with a gun.

"Moreno," Elliot said quietly. In the shadows, Vincent startled. This was the man who fed Catherine to that evil wolf.

"You've got to be crazy, Burch," Moreno said. "What could be worth all this?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Probably not. Gaines!"

At the sound of his name, Gaines fired at Elliot. He was expecting this and ducked and began to run among the carousel horses. Elliot hid in the center of the carousel, on the opposite side of the door. Gaines walked between the two rows of horses, his eyes darting right and left. Moreno went the opposite direction of Gaines, pulling a gun from his pocket as he went.

His heart pounding in his ears, Elliot wondered where Vincent had disappeared to. Had he been hit by the first volley of bullets? Then, Elliot saw Gaines approaching. He ducked lower in the shadows until Gaines was next to the horse he was hiding behind. Elliot sprang up and grasped the other man's hands and struck his wrists against a carousel pole, once, twice, three times and the gun flew across the floor. Gaines threw a punch that struck Elliot in the jaw and he fell, striking his head, stunning him for a moment.

"Gaines!" Moreno called, moving towards them.

When Elliot recovered his senses, it was to see Gaines aiming his retrieved gun at his head. Suddenly, there was a roar and Vincent jumped down from the ceiling. He ignored the gun turned in his direction and struck out, knocking Gaines to the floor, unconscious. Elliot remained sprawled where he was, too astonished to move.

Moreno stopped at the sound of Vincent's roar, but Vincent did not. He continued forward and growled, low in his throat. Here was the man who Catherine had trusted, had looked up to, had wanted to impress for two years in the DA's office. He was almost a father figure to her. When she was being chased and was desperate, she had seen Moreno and thought she was safe. But he ignored all that was good and right and let that madman take her, take their baby.

Moreno saw the anger and indignation in Vincent's eyes, as well as the madness of a beast advancing towards him and he fired his gun twice, striking Vincent in the right shoulder and leg. The beast looked down at the blood beginning to stain his clothes and then looked back up at the man who shot him. He took three more steps as Moreno stared in horror and slashed out at the miserable excuse for a man who had betrayed his one true love.

"Who owns you?" Vincent snarled as Moreno trembled, bleeding on the ground.

"What?"

"What is his name? The man you work for!"

"Gabriel."

Vincent turned away from the miserable excuse for a man and moved back towards Elliot.

When all was silent, Elliot found himself on his feet, just as Vincent collapsed to his knees. Elliot reached out, grasping Vincent's hand, pulling him upwards. Vincent reached out with his other hand, bracing himself on Elliot's shoulder and stood. As he did so, the two men who loved Catherine Chandler faced each other. Elliot gasped and then understood everything – Vincent's need for the shadows, all the gaps in Catherine's life, the mysterious tunnels she had led him through when they escaped the Gorronistas. Elliot looked at Vincent's face, full of fear and pain and yet still so beautiful, and knew why he could never truly win Catherine's heart. Vincent moved away quickly, back to the shadows. "Vincent!" Elliot called, but Vincent never looked back.

Vincent limped quickly out of the carousel and down the hill to the drainage tunnel. He opened the metal grate, tripped the lever that opened the stainless steel door and slammed the grate closed. He fumbled for the gate, opened it and slipped inside as the door was still sliding open. He pulled the gate closed and then tripped the lever on the inside near the carving of his and Devin's names and closed the steel door. He leaned against the wall, then slowly slid down it, collapsing in the dirt.

Elliot made his way shakily toward the Town car, in the opposite direction Vincent had went. His driver was hanging up the car phone, but Elliot did not notice.

"You okay, boss?" one of the bodyguards asked.

"Just take me home," he said quietly.

**C&VC&VC&VC&V**

In the darkest hours of the night, just before dawn, the thin, dark man stood in another part of Central Park. He was in the zoo, watching a male lion pace in his cage, back and forth, back and forth.

Another man, thin as well, but well-muscled, with hair so blond it was nearly white approached along the path that led up to the cage. There were two stone lions flanking a park bench nearby. "Cold night," he said.

"Yes," the dark one said. "Winter's coming." He turned to the other man. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to make sure you came alone."

The dark man sighed and stepped away from the cage. "I've out-grown those games. I have a job for you."

"I'm retired."

"Un-retire."

"Why should I?"

"There's money in it."

"You're boring me."

"For old time's sake."

"For old time's sake? Huh. I could kill you quickly."

"You could try. But then there'd be no one left to blame. You'd be all alone." The dark man smirked at the light one.

The light man shook his head. "I heard about your little war. It is no challenge for me to kill a man like Elliot Burch."

"Well, Burch is an inconvenience. I wouldn't dream of wasting a man of your talents on him. No, what I have in mind for you is much more intriguing." He pulled a video tape out of his pocket and extended it towards the other man. He turned away. The dark man crouched down and set the tape on the park bench between them. "This may interest you. The night this tape was made, eight armed men were ripped apart, eviscerated." The dark man turned back to the lion.

The light man turned to the tape, then back. Finally, he picked it up. "Creature features. Maybe I should make popcorn." He began to walk away.

"Snow!" the dark man called. Snow stopped and turned back. "I have a child. A son."

"I don't kill children anymore. Not even yours."

"My son is sick. I need him," he gestured towards the tape. "I need him alive."

"Who is he?"

"My enemy."

Snow walked back to the dark man and looked at his face. "You're frightened, Gabriel. You can't sleep nights, can you? But, I'm gonna fix it for you, so you can sleep like a baby. Papa." He turned and walked back down the path.

"Then do it!" the Gabriel called out. "If you can."

Snow turned back while pulling a gun from a hidden holster under his jacket. He fired six times at one of the lion statures, turning it into dust that sprayed over the Gabriel. He frowned, angry, and glared up at Snow.

"I can."


	10. Chapter 10

Catherine was walking towards Father's study, leaning on Mary's sturdy arm. She was feeling stronger. Being safe in Vincent's chamber surrounded by her surrogate family was doing wonders for her health. She stumbled a little as they approached the entrance, hearing angry voices echoing into the hallway.

"Vincent, you must!"

"It is fine, Father!"

"What is it?" Mary asked, entering the room, leaving Catherine leaning on the tunnel wall.

Father glanced over at Mary, and seeing Catherine, hedged. "He is just being obstinate again."

Vincent noticed Catherine in the doorway as well and moved slowly towards her. "Are you sure you should be up and walking so soon?"

"I'm fine, Vincent." She reached up and patted his right shoulder. He winced slightly. "What is it?" Concern crossed over her face.

"I'm fine. Just a minor injury. Nothing to worry about."

"An injury? What happened?" Mary turned to Vincent and eyed him up and down, appraising him like the mother she was to all the Tunnel-dwellers.

Father couldn't take it anymore. "He met with Elliot Burch last night and was shot! He needs to use a sling and refuses. He'll reopen that wound that I just closed."

"Shot!" Catherine gasped. "Vincent! What happened."

"I'm fine," Vincent said. "Your former employer attempted to eliminate Elliot and I prevented it."

"Why were you meeting Elliot?"

"For information that will lead to our son. The man who held you is named Gabriel."

"Is Elliot all right?"

"Yes."

"And John?" Vincent's head drooped. "Oh, Vincent. I'm so sorry."

"I am too. At the time I couldn't help but think that he had a choice, and his choice caused all of this. He is supposed to stand for truth and justice. Instead, he allowed a man like Gabriel to control him."

"You both need your rest," Mary broke in. "Come along now."

"I'll be along shortly with a sling for you, Vincent," Father called after him.

Catherine put her arm around Vincent's waist and he held her with his good left arm. "I'll see that he wears it, Father."

C&VC&VC&VC&VC&V

Diana spent a fairly unproductive morning searching for maps of the tunnels beneath the city. She found several maps, but none seemed to be of what she had found under Catherine's building. Frustrated, she left the building, but as she opened the door, she nearly collided with a white-blond-haired man dressed all in black. She went outside and stopped at a payphone to check her messages.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hey Mark. I didn't think you'd be home. I was just going to check my messages."

"Hey, babe. Yeah, there's one." She could hear paper rustling in the background. "Some old guy named Peter Alcott called. He wants you to come to this address when you can." He read the address to her and she scribbled it down in her notebook.

"Did Joe Maxwell call back?"

"Nope."

"Kay. Thanks, babe."

"Love you. Bye." Mark hung up.

Diana looked over the address she had written down. "What are you up to now, Dr. Alcott?"

C&VC&VC&VC&VC&V

Joe stepped out of the cab in front of the Chinese restaurant. The sign above the door simply said, "Wong's" in large red letters. He squinted up at it, then looked at the address in his hand. This was definitely the place, but what information regarding the whereabouts of Catherine Chandler could be obtained from this run-down restaurant remained to be seen. Dr. Alcott had called him early this morning, asking him to meet there. He promised more information. Joe shrugged to himself and opened the door.

Lin Pei was working at the front counter in her husband's restaurant that morning. She had received messages from Father and was looking for the former Deputy DA and the flame-haired detective. She approached Joe.

"Good afternoon, sir. May I show you to a table?"

"Yeah, thanks."

She guided him to a table in the corner, away from the window. "Are you dining alone today or meeting someone?"

"I don't know." Joe slapped his newspaper on the table. "You tell me."

Lin lowered her gaze and moved away. "I'll bring you some tea."

Joe sighed and rubbed his eyes. He had been searching hospital records for abandoned newborns, but had as much luck as when the search had been for Jane Doe's matching Catherine's description. A newborn could be anywhere; he didn't even know if he was looking for a girl or a boy.

The bell over the door rang as another customer entered the restaurant. Joe looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Bennett!" he called.

She walked over. "Hey, Joe. Did Alcott contact you too?"

"I guess so. This is so weird."

"No kidding. I spent the morning at the Hall of Records. Did you know that there are literally miles of tunnels under the city?"

"I'm not surprised by anything anymore."

"Did you find anything about the baby?"

"No. Did you find any tunnels under Cathy's building?"

"No."

Lin returned with a teapot and two cups. "Hey? How did you know I'd need two cups?" Joe asked.

Lin just smiled enigmatically and poured the tea. She went back to the front counter.

Joe picked up his paper and gave it to Diana. "Did you see this?"

Diana picked up the paper and read the article on top. "New York DA John Moreno Found Murdered."

"Oh, my God, Joe. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know. This is getting bizarre."

"Do you know anything?"

"Nope. Nothing more than the front page. I couldn't even think about it. I just kept calling hospitals about abandoned babies until I got Alcott's note."

"When we're done here, I'll go sniff around."

"Thanks."

The two sipped their tea and looked anxiously towards the door every time the bell rang. Finally, two cups later, Lin approached their table.

"I have received a note for you. You are Mr. Maxwell and Ms. Bennett?"

Diana nodded and took the note. Joe slid his chair to her side to read over her shoulder. "That's Cathy's handwriting!" he exclaimed.

_ "__Dear Joe,_

_ "__I am fine, now. I am somewhere safe. I know Peter told you something about it, but I can't tell you anymore. Just know that I am safe and being well cared for. Perhaps soon we can meet face-to-face, but for now this note will have to suffice._

_ "I was kept for over six months __at the top of __an office building. I was alone except for the delivery of my meals and a daily medical examination. I was pregnant and kept until I delivered my son. The man who kept me ordered my death after my baby was born. I nearly died. Peter and other friends saved me. I am well on the road to recovery. There is only one thing I need to be truly well – my son._

_ "My kidnapper took him from that building __i__n a helicopter. The man is thin with dark hair and eyes. I only saw him once, but his cold, unfeeling eyes burn in my memory. His name is Gabriel. I don't know his last name and his first may be an alias. He is powerful enough to have bought the DA. Joe, John was there when I was taken. He let it happen. Be careful. I don't know who you can trust._

_ "Please tell Detective Bennett to stop looking for the Tunnels and for Vincent. She is wasting her time and endangering numerous lives. She should concentrate on finding my son. If she finds him, she will find Gabriel. We have looked to Elliot Burch for help. You should pool your information. If we learn anything else, we will let you know._

_ "I cannot stress the importance of discretion in this matter. I do not know how far this goes. You and Ms. Bennett are the only ones I can trust._

_ "You may leave notes for me here and Lin will see they are delivered. Peter has left town. If there is any danger to the Wong's, we will have to find another __delivery__ point._

_ "Be careful. But write soon._

_ "Catherine."_

"Oh, my God," Joe whispered. "I can't believe it. I knew she was alive. I knew it."

"Yeah, yeah, Joe. You're very smart." Diana had opened her notebook and was jotting notes from Catherine's letter. She looked up and caught Lin's eye. When she approached, Diana asked quietly, "Can you send a return note as soon as possible?" Lin nodded. "Great." She flipped to a clean sheet and began to write. "Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm asking Cathy for more of a physical description. I'd love to get a sketch artist to her, but maybe she is with someone who can draw. I need a sketch of this Gabriel guy. Do we know the address of the building she was held in?"

"I don't think so. I left my files at home. Maybe she told Burch?"

"Maybe. Look, Bennett, we need to be careful. Watch your back as you're poking into all of this."

"Yeah, I know." He picked up his paper and Diana finished her note.

He said, "Why don't you contact Burch when we leave here. I'm gonna call the office and find out what's what."

"Okay."

They both approached the front counter and Joe paid for the tea. He slid Diana's note under the bill and gave Lin a $20 tip for a $3 pot of tea. "Thanks."

"Come again," Lin said gaily.

"You bet I will," Joe smiled.

C&VC&VC&VC&VC&V

The baby laid in the crib. He cried and cried. His face was beet red and tears streaked down his cheeks. His voice had become hoarse from his screams. Suddenly, a snowflake fell and landed on his head. Then another and another. The baby squalled even louder. Then the wind picked up and drowned out the baby's cries. A blizzard swirled and howled around the baby and the room he was in turned into the Central Park Tunnel entrance. A man was sitting against the wall, frozen. Then his head turned, pushed by the wind. It was Vincent.

Catherine woke from the nightmare with a gasp and a scream. She began to cry.

"What is it?" Vincent asked in his soft voice. His right arm was tied to his chest in a sling, but he pulled her to his side with his left. "Another nightmare?"

"Yes," she sobbed. "The baby is crying. And there was snow, a storm, in the tunnels. And you!"

"What?"

"You were frozen."

"Shh, Catherine. We are safe. No storm can reach us here."

"The baby?"

"He misses you. We will find him and make up for this lost time. All will be well."

"No, Vincent. I think the worst is yet to come."


End file.
